


Tom and Charlie

by BoxFullofCats



Category: British Actor RPF, Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, Thor (Movies) RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Parenthood, good parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:15:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoxFullofCats/pseuds/BoxFullofCats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom finds an interesting way to get his child to fall asleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tom and Charlie

The house was finally quiet. Lights had been turned off. Doors and windows had been locked and doubled checked. It was something mundane he had always done before, not really putting any thought into it.

That was then, this was now.

It was amazing how your life could be put into perspective when there was someone in it who had you so tightly wound around their little fingers. That the only way they could express that they loved you was to get a ridiculously big, toothless smile on their face when they saw you.

It was funny how fatherhood could change things.

He heard a faint curse come from down the hall and went to investigate. Tom found his wife in the kitchen, tearing through their son’s diaper bag.

"Something wrong?" Tom asked.

She sighed and stopped rummaging. “We’re out of nappies. I could have sworn we hand another bag but we’re completely out.”

He placed a soothing hand on her back. “Shall I make a run or do you want to go?”

"There a few other things I want to pick up," she said, quickly deciding. "If I go, will you be okay? Staying here by yourself, with him?"

Tom chuckled and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “He’s asleep. I think I’ll manage.”

"Right. I’ll be back soon." She gave him a quick kiss on the lips before grabbing her purse and keys. She left with a soft goodbye as she closed the door.

Really. He may not be experienced as a parent, neither of them actually, but Tom thought he wasn’t that bad.

From their bedroom he nicked the monitor and took it with him to the dining room table. They had an office but he had always preferred to read over scripts and his research for roles in the more open room where their table sat. It drove his wife a little mad when he left his things spread out and they were trying to have a proper family meal.

Tom did not keep track of the time as he sat there, pouring over material, answering emails on his Mac, and pacing the length of the room as he read lines aloud. It wasn’t unusual for his wife to get distracted. Her “getting a few things” was more often than not code for “doing the complete grocery shopping alone.” For two people who had been used to a great deal of “alone time” before the arrival of their son, he couldn’t begrudge her wanting to get out on her own. Tom was using this time to do his own thing as well.

It was as he was repeating a line, trying to decide the best place to put the emphasis, when the little whimper came across the monitor. Like a gazelle on the Serengeti as it felt a predator’s eyes upon it he froze, waiting for the baby to make another sound. Mentally he counted to thirty before moving again, this time a little more cautiously. Words were spoken a little softer as he practiced.

It was not to last.

A wail was issued forth from the tiny body that was his child. Tom dumped his script on the table and full on sprinted down the hall fearing the worst.

Had his son got his head trapped between the wooden slats on his crib? Maybe it was a limb and now it is broken? What if someone was trying to break into the room?

He opened the door and stood there, breathing heavily, as he look to the window - still closed - and then to his son, red face and opened mouth as he cried. His head was not stuck; no limbs appeared to be broken. At seven months he had learned to pull himself up, as he clearly demonstrated (now at ten months) with his little fists wrapped around the railing of his crib.

"Hey, Charlie, what is wrong?" Tom cooed as he picked up him up. The screaming stopped then, tears still hung in his eyes.

You could not convince Tom that Charlie was anything less than perfect and healthy, and he wasn’t. Tom was not above bragging to anyone who would listen that his son was in the 90th percentile in height for his age. (Something his wife was also glad for, as she feared he’d inherit her shorter stature.) Or how his head was gloriously average and not oversized like some infants’ appeared. There was also the fact that Charlie had been born with a full head of hair - that was more of his wife’s genetics but he was still proud of it.

Yes, his son was perfect, except for the unshed tears hanging in his eyes.

With the pad of his thumb he gently wiped them away. “Why the sad face?” Tom looked around and spotted the bottle his wife had put him down with on the floor. “Tossed your bottle out in a fit, I see.”

Tom laid his son back down into the crib and put the bottle back in his tiny grasp. “Back to sleep you go, little lad.” He smoothed a hand over his (for now) straight hair before wishing Charlie goodnight.

If only someone had told Tom he’d have to repeat these actions three more times.

His wife had yet to return and he was at his wit’s end. Charlie would do nothing but wail at the top range of his tiny vocal cords. Tom was about to cave in and take his son to their bed. The Hiddleston’s had been trying to have their son sleep in his crib at night so as to allow them some private time in their own bed. He didn’t want to give in.

It was then that Tom had an epiphany.

Placing Charlie into his crib, who immediately started crying, Tom placed a long leg over the crib side. Gingerly he shifted his weight to the leg inside crib.

No ominous creaks or cracking sounds greeted him. Committing to his idea he drew in his other leg and then settled down to a sitting position.

Charlie looked at his father and sniffled a few times before launching himself at Tom. His little cubby baby arms wrapped around his father’s neck and buried his head into the crook of his neck.

"Oh, it’s okay," Tom said as he wrapped his arms his son’s little body. Slowly he reclined back and turned onto his side, surprised that he could fit his tall frame within, so that when Charlie snuggled next him his head was pillowed on Tom’s arm.

Charlie, content that his father was there, finished the last dregs of his bottle before sailing off with Wynken, Blynken and Nod.

Wanting to make sure that Charlie was fully asleep before extracting himself from the crib, Tom laid there. He happily indulged himself studying his son’s face. Still completely amazed that he helped create this little person, that there was this little boy (the most perfect little boy) who was half him and half the love of his life.

Tom spent so much time studying Charlie’s nose, his fingers, how his little mouth hung open as he slept that when his wife came home he was fast asleep. She found both her boys, after searching for her husband through the house, curled up in Charlie’s crib.

"Isn’t this a sight," she whispered. Unable to resist she took a photo with her phone. "Tom, Tom," she softly called to him, running her hand through his hair, "Tom, babe, wake up."

Bleary eyed he looked up at her. “Hello, love,” he greeted her, sleepy smile on his lips.

"I know I monopolize the covers but I think sleeping in Charlie’s bed is an extreme solution."

Tom laughed lightly as he extracted himself from being Charlie’s pillow. Careful not to tip the crib he made like a newborn colt, all long limbs and no grace, and exited the crib. His wife just shook her head and held back a giggle when his foot got caught.

"You," he said as he wrapped his arms around her, "take entirely too long."

"Sorry about that." She kissed his cheek and then whispered to him, "I do think that we should leave before we wake him up."

Tom agreed and led her from the room. As they made their way to their bedroom he told her about his brilliant idea to get their son asleep.

"I just didn’t think that a giant could fit in there," she teased him.

He rolled his eyes as he closed their door. “You know, sunshine, I don’t think that we’re anywhere close to being ready to having a second child.”

To which his wife let out a sarcastic laugh at the thought of them having another baby, at this point in time.

Wrapping his long arms around her again, pulling her close to him so their bodies were flush. “We may not be ready,” Tom said with a playful growl, “but it doesn’t mean we can’t practice.”

Her eyes grew wide and she let out a playful squeal before Tom pulled her onto the bed with him.


End file.
